


Bad Things Bingo

by Scribbles97



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Bad Things Bingo, Bedside Vigils, Brotherly Bonding, Character Death, Father and Son, Fever, Fluff and Angst, Grandmas cooking, Gunshot Wounds, Kidnapped, Manhandling, Reminiscing, Tags will be added as I write, blowing up TB5, death bed, end of life care, hostage video
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26478145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribbles97/pseuds/Scribbles97
Summary: Scribbles joined the meany club and started a challenge to whump our boys as much as possible.See each chapter for individual warnings.
Comments: 29
Kudos: 40





	1. Fevers

It wasn’t the first time he had sworn that the world was determined to rip his family apart, and somehow Jeff Tracy knew it wouldn't be the last. 

When he had only been back on Earth a matter of weeks though, not even properly allowed home yet for fear of his body not being able to cope with its sudden return to Earth’s gravity. When he had hardly gotten to see his boys and his family together in one place before they had scattered for a rescue and he had been sent packing to the best hospital on the mainland. When he had been the last to find out that Scott was in that very same hospital for an entirely different reason, it hardly seemed fair on any of them. 

They had just got back to being a unit, a fragmented family, whole once more. 

And an infection threatened to take it all from them. 

Virgil had filled him in when he had got there, a cut in the eldests’ shoulder that he himself had stitched and treated. The antibiotic shot he had given should have been enough to prevent the infection, yet for some reason, something somewhere must have gone wrong. 

When the word septicaemia had been thrown into the mix, Jeff had felt his heart stop. 

He knew he hadn’t been meant to hear his mother’s quiet murmur of how much worse it  _ could _ have been if Gordon hadn’t gone to set a booby trap in Scott’s room that morning. 

A whimper from the bed drew his attention from his thoughts. 

“You’re alright son,” He murmured, taking the clammy hand between his own, “You’re gonna be fine.”

Eyes darkened by heavy black circles flicked listlessly up to him. 

“D’d?”

He smiled and reached up with the flannel to wipe at his forehead, “I’m here kid. How’re you doin’?”

A heavy sigh as Scott’s eyes slipped closed again, the crows feet at the corners as he scrunched them shut, the only indication that he hadn’t fallen asleep again. 

“Hurts.” The younger man croaked, voice thicker than Jeff remembered his own being after eight years alone in space. 

He knew it was a side effect of the infection, that his body was responding to the infection on a much larger scale than needed. The fluids and antibiotics being pumped into his arm wouldn’t fix anything immediately. There was nothing to say that those treatments were enough. 

They were depending on Scott to fight. 

“I know kid,” He sighed himself, stroking his thumb across the back of Scott’s hand, “It’s going to get better though, you hear? Just keep fighting, for me?”

A hum of acknowledgement was all he got as his son’s face grew slack again, sleep taking back over, giving him what little strength there was to fight. 

He didn’t like to think about what the previous day had presented him with. A son that barely recognised him, too feverish to remember that they had brought him home. Scott had sobbed at the trick his mind was playing on him, a loud, earth shattering sound that might as well have ripped Jeff’s heart from his chest. Convinced that both he and his father were dead, he had screamed, trapped in a dream that not even Virgil had been able to drag him from. 

Jeff had refused to leave him that night, afraid that the thought they both could have been dead would be too much for his eldest. That maybe, in thinking his father was gone, Scott would too give up. 

Virgil had rolled his eyes at that. Reminded Jeff of the stubbornness that the boys had inherited from both of their parents. Scott wouldn’t give up, not when he had younger brothers to get back to smothering. 

The silence that replaced the fever dreams was both better and worse. It was only the monitors on the wall that told him his son was fighting. The stillness though was too much of a foreign concept to him for any of his boys. The Tracy’s were loud and brash and always on the go. 

Quiet stillness was never a good sign.

It reminded him too much of a mountain side, the world silenced by a rush of snow, a body still and lifeless clutched around another. 

“Don’t take him,” He whispered, holding the boy’s hand to his lips, “I beg you Luce, don’t take our boy from me now. Not when I just got him back.”

There wasn’t an answer. There never was. 

There was only hope. Hope that their boy was stubborn enough to fight and come home.


	2. Hostage Video

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is fluffy whump a thing? 
> 
> Because this is nowhere near as mean as I could have made it if I had really tried... Have some Grandma and Scott and a hostage video...
> 
> Oh and one little swear right at the very start!

Scott was blaming it all on Gordon. If it wasn’t for his little shit of a younger brother suggesting Grandma tried doing an online cooking tutorial, he wouldn’t have been in the mess.

Grounded with a busted ankle, there was little he could do to escape the lounge when presented with a plate of what looked like melted ice cream. 

Sweet and enjoyable he knew it would not be. 

“You can tell all my viewers how good it is, Scotty.” Grandma was saying, waving her phone in his face as she shoved the plate into his hands.

“Erm,” He gulped, “What  _ is _ it, Grandma?”

She grinned as she let go of the plate and held out a fork to him, “A twist on spaghetti bolognese.”

Italian bolognese it was not. 

Where was the red of the tomatoes? 

Where was the mound of spaghetti? 

Where was the sprinkling of parmesan? 

A hostage to his own Grandmother, his brothers having left him abandoned at the first mention of her cooking. He knew they’d be watching, tucked away safely somewhere in Thunderbird Two most likely. It was like he could hear their sniggering. 

Looking to the phone, he knew there was only one way forward. 

“Mmm yum, your cooking is always the best Grandma.”

_ SOS, send help.  _

“There’s more where that came from.”

Anyone watching had to know his smile was false, that really he didn’t  _ want _ any more than what was already in front of him. Was that not already torture enough?

“Now,” Grandma smiled as she perched on the edge of the coffee table, “Where do you think everyone else has got to?”

As much as he hated his brothers for abandoning him, he wasn’t about to see them tortured in the same way. 

“No idea.” he shrugged, poking at the gelatinous substance with the fork, “I haven’t seen them since breakfast.”

Technically it wasn’t a lie, Gordon had helped him back up to the lounge after eating. Once his pain killers had kicked in, Scott had promptly fallen asleep where he sat. 

The raised eyebrow Grandma gave him, told him she wasn’t convinced. 

“Well that’s a shame, isn’t it? I guess my viewers will just have to take your word for it.” 

He wasn’t sure what words were safe to use as a response. It sounded like she was threatening him, but with what he wasn’t sure. 

“Mmm.” He hummed, picking up a fork full of  _ it _ and forcing a tight smile. 

“That’s right,” Grandma nodded, “Smile for the camera, and tell them all about it.”

Telling them to save themselves and run for it wasn’t really an option, not if he wanted to remain a well loved grandson. 


	3. I'm Not Afraid Of You Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: End of Life Care, Implied Character Death, Discussions of Death

It was a cruel trick of fate for the man that had been so strong for her through her whole life to be ground down by such a slow and painful disease. The man that she had seen as a second father, withered away before her very eyes despite the best treatment money could buy. 

Parker had always been a stubborn old goat though. 

He had known long before he had told her, the admission forced by a dizzy spell whilst at the wheel of FAB 1. By that stage it had been far too late, the disease having progressed faster than any doctor had apparently expected. Penelope had immediately reversed their roles, wishing to give a dying man the best he could wish for. 

It was with love in his eyes that he had said, serving her was the best thing that had ever happened to him. 

Parker hated hospitals, and she knew that at the end he would not spend his time there. Nor would she see him there either. 

The manor was the only place he would be, of that she made sure with all the power she had available to her. A room on the sunniest side of the building, set up just for him despite the protests he had made. It was only her insistence that persuaded him, the fact that it was closer to her room and much more accessible. 

When thoughts had deteriorated and sleep became more frequent, she had remained vigil at his bedside. For a man that had no other family, she refused for him to be alone at the end. 

“M’Lady?”

Professional until the end, she had to smile as she squeezed his hand, “Yes, Parker?”

He struggled to push himself upright in the bed, as much as she wanted to help him she knew her hand would be swatted away the moment she attempted any form of assistance. 

“H’I owe you a great deal of thanks, m’Lady.”

It was only her training that stopped her from raising a sceptical eyebrow at him as he settled against the pillows again. She had to ignore the way his voice cracked and croaked on the words, knowing it would be her own undoing. 

“Parker, you do--”

Lifting his hand over hers was enough to stop her protest. 

The blue of his eyes was glassy as he watched her hand, but again she said nothing. 

“When h’I was a young man, there was a time in my life when h’I was afraid of dying.” He started, “H’I ‘ad nothin’ you see? No friends, no family, h’and nothin’ to my name.”

His hand patted hers as a lump swelled in her throat, he talked a lot about his misspent youth those days. Some stories made her laugh, others made her roll her eyes in disdain, yet he had never made her cry with his stories.

“Then your father came along, and you with him, m’Lady. H’eventually those Tracy boys came along too.” 

A frown creased his face as he looked up to her, “That Master Gordon had best look after you, m'Lady. H’if he don’t--”

Smiling through her tears she patted his hand, “You can tell him yourself when he gets home from Kuala Lumpur.”

Parker scoffed, shaking his head with a heavy sigh, “He’s a good kid really.”

She knew, Parker had no idea how much she knew. Part of her wondered if he remembered confiding in her that Gordon reminded him of his younger self. 

“H’I’m not scared of ‘im anymore, m’Lady.”

She frowned, “Gordon?”

His laugh was marred by a coughing fit, deep and chesty as he doubled forward for a moment before sinking back again still clearing his throat with a wheezing sigh. 

“No,” He smiled to her, “ _ ‘im _ , death, the grim reaper. H’I’ve had a good run, managed to turn things around and do something for myself.”

“Hey,” She tutted, “None of that now, you’ve got time left yet.”

His smile grew sad as he nodded, “Maybe so, but still, h’I wanted to thank you m’Lady, it’s thanks to you that I’m not h’afriad of ‘im.”

Her sob wasn’t lady-like at all, neither was throwing herself forward into him. Parker had seen it all though, seen her through life at her best and worst. A life without him wasn’t something she could possibly imagine. 

Wasn’t something she  _ wanted _ to imagine. 

“H’it’s h’alright m’Lady.”

Except it wasn’t. 

Late that same night, as she sobbed into Gordon’s chest, she wasn’t sure anything was going to ever be alright again. 


	4. Attacked in their Sleep

Space was dangerous, of that there was no doubt. John had known it since he had first understood the concept of a vacuum. 

Space was dangerous, but Thunderbird Five was safe. Gordon had once likened the station to a fortress, and John knew that was exactly what their father had intended. Not simply in terms of the facilities and protection provided for any residents who dared to spend more than the recommended time out of earth’s atmosphere. But also the requirements for anyone to simply access the fifth Thunderbird. Her equipment, the technology, wasn’t something they could risk falling into the wrong hands. 

It was by rights that  _ nobody _ should have been able to get in. 

Nobody should have been there to grab him by the shoulders and manhandle him into his helmet.

Still half asleep after too many hours of monitoring rescues, it took too long for his brain to come online. Too long for him to react and kick out and thrash in a way that Kayo  _ and _ Penny would no doubt scold him for later. 

Why hadn’t Eos woken him? Why hadn’t alarms sounded to alert him to the intruders? Why had they bothered with his helmet?

They obviously didn’t want him simply  _ dead _ if they had at least bothered to take the time with his helmet. Though that perhaps worried him more. 

That and the eerie silence screaming in his ears, the piercing buzz of nothing replacing the usual hum of his station. 

As his arms were wrenched behind his back, more of his brain seemed to boot up. Why was he so out of it? He had to be missing something. 

A muted chuckle, muffled by helmets with unlinked comms. He dared to turn and look, head spinning with the movement and he was glad that the gravity had at least been turned off. 

“Let’s go.” The form by the door stated, “I don’ wanna be here when the other’s get here.”

The others, Tracy Island, his brothers. They’d already be on their way, one way or another they’d know, they had to know. 

Didn’t they?

He was shoved forward, propelled through the door and into the firm grip of the voice he didn’t know. 

But his attention wasn’t on the hand that gripped his arm too hard. 

His ship was silent, dark and unmoving around him. Thunderbird Five was offline and he was definitely in trouble. 

Yet, it was the hole in the side of the station that held his attention. 


	5. Bound and Gagged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Implied Violence  
> TW: Swearing

Gordon’s family had always said that his smart mouth would get him in trouble one day. Part of him had known it was true, but more of him had always thought he was just too smart to actually end up bearing any consequences of his actions. 

The ache in his jaw simply went to prove his family’s point. In hindsight he totally should have shut up way sooner than he had. 

Except the absolute Bastards had nabbed him mid date with Penny, grabbed him from the sidewalk whilst she had been powdering her nose. He was surprised nobody had noticed straight away, it wasn’t like he had gone down without a fight. His fists had made two solid landings and he was sure his shoulder had made contact with someone. 

That was probably exactly why his arms were bound behind him, secured with something thin and tight that dug into his skin. 

It made him smile to think he must have caused some damage. 

“What you grinning about?” One of the brutes spat at him. 

Gordon wasn’t sure what the guy expected him to say. 

“Oh,” He continued, “So  _ now _ the cat’s got your tongue?” 

All he did was shrug in response, knowing full well there was more than one way to be cheeky. 

Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea, he reflected as he was grabbed by his scalp and pulled up into the face of the guy that had been watching him. If he had been Scott’s height, maybe it wouldn’t have been a problem, but Gordon was short and his feet scrabbled for purchase in protest against being lifted by his hair. 

“I’ll tell ya wha’ we’re gonna do,” The brute grinned, spittle flying out in the gap where he was missing a tooth, “We’re gonna rough you up some, then we’re gonna make a nice call to that pretty little lady friend of yours. Whatcha say to that?”

He really wished he had stayed quiet, had gone along quietly and just put up with it all. Maybe then he could have fought back when it really mattered. 

Instead he was flung back to the floor with no way to catch himself. His shoulder protested loudly as he landed awkwardly, only just managing to not hit his head on the floor. 

It was okay though, because Penny was coming. She had to be. He could take a little  _ roughing up _ until she got there. He’d had worse in the past. 

If he had had some sense he’d have kept his mouth shut and smooth talked his way out of danger until she got there. Instead, he could only watch as a pair of heavy boots crossed the floor towards him and brace himself for what he knew came next. 


	6. Worked to Exhaustion

Eat. Study. Party. Repeat. 

That was her life, that was what college life was meant to be like, or at least so everyone had told her. Enjoy it, they had said, the best years of her life, they had insisted. 

Except as the music pulsed in her ears and the taste of alcohol filled her mouth, exhaustion pulled at her muscles and made her eyes ache. Ina had hold of her, and was pulling her across the packed club towards the bar for more drinks. 

All Lucy wanted was her bed. 

And maybe her books. There was a pop quiz coming up on the hydraulics of suspension in vehicles for different environments. So far she’d only read the space part of that chapter of her text book. 

It was just unfortunate that  _ that  _ professor preferred to focus on Polar exploration rather than Lunar exploration. 

Finally they pushed through the huddle and reached the cool work top of the bar, something to hold her up that wasn’t another human being. Another drink pushed into her hand, the sight of Ina downing her own drink encouraging her to do the same. 

It had to be her last one. She had another shift tomorrow morning, she needed the money to fund her internship over summer. 

Summer seemed so far away. She felt like maybe she would drown before then, suffocated by keeping all her plates spinning. Parties were fun, parties were where she got to meet new people and, if she was lucky, go home with someone at the end of the night. Work was important though, she needed her degree for the job she oh so longed for. 

The air was suffocating and she needed to get out, to go home and sleep before she collapsed into nothing. 

“I’m going home!” She yelled over the music, pulling her arm from Ina’s grip. 

When had they gotten back on the dance floor?

Ina’s grin was too wide as she nodded, waving as Lucy pulled away and fought her way through the tight packed crowd. Her mind was drifting back to her books as she forced her way between dancers, if she showered before bed she could get up early and study for an hour before her shift. How many alarms would it take to get her up the next morning? 

Too many in all likelihood. Even then, it would probably be a task to drag herself from her bed. 

What she wouldn’t give for a week off to just  _ stop _ . 

To sleep and relax and do all the things she enjoyed without there being some sort of deadline on them. 

As she broke free of the crowd, she stumbled, the sudden lack of bodies gave her nothing to hold herself up on and her legs decided that life was just too heavy. 

“Woah there.”

Something caught her, stopped her from falling face first into the stairs up out of the club. 

“Are you okay?”

She tried to find her words as the world tipped on its side and something warm pulled her close. Everything was so heavy, and she still had so much to do. 

“How much have you had to drink?”

“Tired.” She muttered, trying to stand up again, pulling away from the warmth. She didn’t have time to sleep. 

“Okay, let’s go and get you some fresh air.” 

Fresh air sounded good, that would wake her up. 

“Don’t I know you?” 

“Huh?” 

She turned to face him too quick, stumbling on the stairs they had barely started up. 

Blue eyes held her as his hand caught her elbow, his smile cheeky as he nodded forward, “You definitely need a bed, let’s get out of here before you face plant into the ground.” 

His arm wrapped around her waist, basically holding her up as they ascended the stairs to outside. 

“Lucy.” She stated, blinking hard just to keep her eyes open when he asked her what her name was. 

“You’re on engineering, right? I’ve seen you in some of my aeronautics lectures. I’m Jeff.”

“Uh huh.” She responded, barely having the energy to nod. He was so warm in the cool night air, and he smelled good. 

“I need you to stay awake Lucy,” He nudged her gently as they walked, “I don’t know where you live.”

She didn’t have it in her to respond, his shoulder was too comfortable and her eyes too heavy. 

If she woke up in a strange bed the next day, far too late to get to her shift, but to be greeted by the sight of those bright blue eyes and that cheeky smile with a plate of toast. Well, perhaps she’d work herself to exhaustion more often. 


	7. Gunshot Wound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am just mean now aren't I? 
> 
> TW for gunshot injuries

It had been intended as some down time for him, as a break from being in space and fielding calls day in day out. For Alan it was meant to be a chance to be a kid again, and have a day with no responsibilities that he had so often missed out on when he had been younger. For them both it was meant as some brotherly bonding time and a chance to reminisce about days gone by. 

Alan had always loved trips to Kennedy Space Centre, he and John both had never grown out of that sense of awe at those first explorations beyond the confines of their atmosphere. Even as adults and both astronauts in their own rights, there was still something humbling about visiting the museum. 

Unfortunately, being Tracy’s came with a certain level of recognition. It was with good reason the pair rarely visited the corner of the third floor devoted to the first Mars landings. Whilst Alan barely remembered the occasion, both knew enough about the mission from the direct source without needing the reminder of the father that was still missing in their lives. Both got fed up with the whispers and second glances they received through the rest of their tour, and neither felt up to the task of answering questions from over-interested visitors. 

“Dad used to love answering questions in there.” Alan commented as they passed the exhibit in question, “Do you remember?”

John did remember. He remembered people interrupting  _ his _ day out with  _ his _ dad for autographs and photos, asking questions that John himself knew were answered on the plaques across the walls. He remembered fading into the background as big bold Jeff Tracy soaked up the attention in the same way that Scott always did. 

“Yeah,” He sighed, ducking his chin deeper into his scarf, “I remember.” 

“Wanna go and see what’s new in there?” 

It was simply a question of courtesy, lacking any of the youngests usual enthusiasm. For once, John hardly felt any guilt for shaking his head. 

“Hey, you two!” 

Midweek, midwinter, the centre was hardly rammed with visitors, so it was instinct for both to look back towards the exhibit as they had begun to turn away. 

“You’re Jeff Tracy’s kids, right?”

John straightened, something about the woman dressed in dark jeans and a too big black hoodie sending a slight tingle down his spine. 

“We are, yes.” He nodded politely, “Though we are here on a personal visit today, and don’t have time for any questions.”

Her smile was sweet, pink like Penelope’s against equally pale skin. Jello green hair was tucked up under her beanie, only a few strands escaping out to frame her face. 

“Oh, don’t worry,” Her hand waved vaguely, “I wasn’t here to  _ ask _ any questions.”

“Look lady,” Alan sighed still edging away from the exhibit, “I dunno what you want but me and my brother are just here for a break, so can you please just respect that?”

She snorted as her smile turned bitter, “There’s no need to be rude,  _ kid _ .”

John glared, stepping towards her, “Hey, he made a perfectly reasonable request. I recommend that you respect that.”

Her head tilted as her smile dropped, “Or what?”

“Or I’ll file for harassment.” 

“Oh, I think harassment is going to be the least of your worries.”

Before John could ask what she meant, her other had was out of the pouch on the front of her hoodie, a gun brandished towards him, a finger tensing on the trigger and a crack splitting the quiet air. 

“John!” 

He barely registered Alan’s yell as the world tipped sideways and his shoulder hit the floor  _ hard _ . 

He’d never been shot. Scott, Kayo, and Penelope had, but he was the quiet brother most frequently in orbit, hidden away safely from the dangers of idiots on earth (At least mostly). 

From what he had been told, it was meant to hurt a hell of a lot more than the sudden ache from where his body had crash landed. 

As his brain caught up, he realised that it wasn’t the shock of being shot that had sent him down, a much greater force had hit him in the side. 

“Alan.” He gasped out as he pushed himself up, eyes immediately finding the smaller form of his baby brother. 

And the pool of blood under him. 

A curse might have slipped from his mouth as he shuffled the small distance between them. 

“Ow.” The younger breathed, eyes screwed shut, “That hurt.” 

“Hold still and focus on staying awake.” John told him, trying to focus on the fact that at least he was  _ awake _ despite the hole in his chest, “That was a stupid move.” 

“Heh,” Alan grinned, “Saved your life, di’n I?”

“John!” Eos exclaimed, her hologram appearing from his watch as John pulled his scarf from around his neck, “I am receiving reports of a firearms discharge at your location. Report.”

“Alan’s been shot.” He stated as he pressed the blue-green wool against the wound, “I need EMT here  _ now _ . Unknown female assailant has fled the scene, green hair, black hoodie and hat.”

“Emergency services are on their way, as is Thunderbird one.”

Alan grunted at the comment, his face screwing up further as he sucked in a slow breath, “Scott’ll kill me.”

“Too right.” John uttered under his breath, “You stay awake Allie, hear me? I’m not getting the blame for this.”

Blue eyes met his as a smile spread across the youngers lips, “Was your idea.”

“ _ My  _ idea was for you to come up to Five.” He corrected, “I say next time we stick with that.”

A sound that was meant to be a laugh broke off into a gargled cough, red the colour of Alan’s baldric splashing against his lips. Glee shifted to fear in his eyes as he looked up to John. 

“Hey,” He snapped, demanding the attention, “You stay with me, okay? It’s gonna be fine, you’re going to be alright.” 

Because it  _ had _ to be fine. He couldn’t let it be anything else, least of all  _ there _ right outside their Dad’s exhibit. 

Tears glistened as bright as the blood in the fluorescent lights, the bright baby blues as afraid as they once had been of thunder. John had been there then too, reading books about the stars until the younger blond fell asleep on his bed despite the storm. 

Except this time Alan needed to stay awake. 

“Talk to me Allie,” He pleaded, “Just stay awake, okay?” 

His lips trembled as he gave the smallest of nods, “‘m sorry J’hn.”

He forced a scoff, tried to sound as brave as Scott always did, “You can apologise to Scott for all those grey hairs.”

There should have been a response, some sort of laugh and a comment about their big brother dying his hair again. 

There shouldn’t have been eyes that closed and a soft exhale. 

“Alan.” He demanded, “Alan open your eyes. Alan? Alan!”

No, he couldn’t lose him as well. He couldn’t lose his baby brother too. 

Hands on his shoulders pulled him back as uniformed EMTs stepped in, “Alan!” 


End file.
